Boris The Spider
by TrollyOgre
Summary: Just a silly songfic about Ron and a spider in his room. To Boris The Spider by The Who.


Ron opened his eyes blearily, yawning and stretching his arms. Looking out of his window, he could see that the weather was sunny and bright; the perfect day to go for a fly or a walk. The smell of fresh pancakes was wafting up to him from the kitchen downstairs and he licked his lips in anticipation of the forthcoming sugary goodness. He stretched again and then pulled his blankets back around him, the warmth was comfortable and just right.

He finally decided that it was probably time for him to get up, so he dragged himself into a sitting position before he noticed It.

_Look, he's crawling up my wall  
Black and hairy, very small  
Now he's up above my head  
Hanging by a little thread_

Ron's eyes went wide and he pulled the covers back around him, trying to becom as small as possible. He looked around for his wand, but it add managed to fall from his bedside table and was buried in yesterday's clothes. He couldn't get to it. Not without leaving the bed. And that would make him incredibly vulnerable to the creature hanging above him.

_Now he's dropped on to the floor  
Heading for the bedroom door  
Maybe he's as scared as me  
Where's he gone now, I can't see_

Ron peered around once more. The black and hairy thing was out of view, but that didn't put him at any rest. When he could see it, he knew it wasn't near him. He could try to second guess it; work out where it was going. Now it could be anywhere. It could be right behind him...

Ron jumped around, giving out a cry and waving his arms in an un-manly way. The spider was nowhere to be seen. Ron was relieved that nobody saw what he had just done. Except perhaps the spider. It was probably laughing at him, in it's stupid spidery way. Ron scowled angrily in the direction where he imagined that the spider was.

_Creepy, crawly  
Creepy, crawly  
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly  
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly  
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly  
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly_

Ron precariously got down from his bed, still wrapped tightly in his duvet, just in case. He settled himself for the job ahead. Piece by piece, he moved each garment of clothing up from the floor to the bed. Each item he shook away from him and winced every time he thought that he saw a movement.

Eventually there was just one lonely sock left. It was maroon and Ron grimaced. He was about to pick it up when he remembered his wand and crawled away a little to pick it up from where it had rolled. Then he got back into his position and quickly grabbed the sock, throwing it away unceremoniously.

"_Stupefy!_" he yelled, closing his eyes.

_There he is wrapped in a ball  
Doesn't seem to move at all  
Perhaps he's dead, I'll just make sure  
Pick this book up off the floor_

Ron opened his left eye, and, seeing the spider lying quite still, allowed the other one to open as well. He tried to examine it closely, but was unable to get close enough without whimpering with fear. He realised that the only way he could really be sure that it wasn't going to hurt him was if he finished it off for good.

Reaching up to his bed side table, his hands clasped around an old mug with a pink rabbit on the side. Ron brought it to his eye level and looked inside. There had been some hot cocoa in there at some point – a few weeks ago – but now there appeared to be nothing but some sort of green mould solidified at the base. Turning it upside-down nothing spilt out so Ron trapped the motionless spider under it.

Turning his back on the creature, Ron began hastily looking for a book; the bigger the better. Then he spotted his perfect weapon: _Hogwarts; A History_. Ron had to let go of his blanket to reach for the leather-bound missile. He knew that he would only have a short amount of time to end the creature, especially if it actually _iwas/i_ still alive.

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he quickly lifted away the tiny prison, before slamming the book down with a crushing blow.

_He's come to a sticky end  
Don't think he will ever mend  
Never more will he crawl 'round  
He's embedded in the ground_


End file.
